


Stilted

by burkygirl



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Birthday Fluff, F/M, Romantic Fluff, Shoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 02:16:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6265639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burkygirl/pseuds/burkygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peeta takes Katniss out for a romantic birthday dinner, she discovers that suffering for fashion sometimes has its benefits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stilted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Peetabreadgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peetabreadgirl/gifts).



> This is a late birthday gift for my fellow shoe fiend @Peetabreadgirl. Had I known she was about to be another year better when we decided this little tale needed to be told, she would have gotten it on time. In honor of her day, I’ve removed all my Canadian ‘u’s and ‘re’s from this story. And I didn’t write OK once. ;) Happy belated birthday my fan girl friend. I <3 you.

 

“No. Absolutely not.”

Katniss backed slowly across the kitchen, trying to make a break for her room as her roommates Madge and Jo advanced upon her with bags from an upscale boutique and calculating grins that were making her decidedly nervous.

“Brainless, you are not going to celebrate your birthday at 451 looking like that,” said Jo, in a tone that dripped of disdain.

Still in retreat, Katniss glanced down at her skinny jeans that were topped by a green tunic and a cream-colored scarf. It was cute. Comfortable. Perfect date night attire. She scowled ferociously enough to chase away the seeds of doubt her best friends were trying to plant in her head. “There’s nothing wrong with what I’m wearing,” she insisted, her hands outstretched defensively. Just a few more feet to her bedroom door and she could lock them out until Peeta arrived.

“Katniss,” pleaded Madge. “Please. Let us help you.”

Katniss backed over the threshold of her bedroom door and grinned at her roommates. “I said, _No_ ,” she replied cheekily, and shut the door in their faces.

Turning around, Katniss discovered she’d underestimated Johanna and Madge. They’d brought in a secret weapon. She was blue-eyed, blonde and bouncing on her heels near Katniss’s bed.

“I can’t believe Peeta is taking you to 451,” Prim gushed. “The food at that place is supposed to be so amazing. And it’s almost impossible to get a reservation.” She gave her older sister the once over. “I can’t believe you’re not ready yet. What are you wearing?”

Katniss sighed and re-opened her bedroom door. Madge and Jo stood on the other side, wearing matching Cheshire cat grins. “I have no idea,” she sighed.

Madge and Jo bustled into the room, pulling various garments and instruments of torment from their bags and consulting with Prim on what would be best. Katniss’s protests were ignored entirely. Jo shoved a dress into Katniss’s arms. “Put this on,” she ordered. Katniss scowled at the scrap of fabric. It was February in Panem, New York, for crying out loud. She’s freeze in that tiny dress. “And these,” she added, handing over a pair of thigh-high stockings.

Madge raised an eyebrow and looked over at Prim. “Does she have appropriate underwear?”

“I’m right here!” Katniss snarled. “And my underwear is just fine, thank you very much.” They didn’t need to know that she’d bought a new coral lace thong and matching strapless bra in as a surprise. She marched across the hall and slammed the bathroom door, deciding to ignore the resulting snicker from Jo. She examined her look in the mirror again. It was a bit…. casual for the upscale bistro. She unwound her scarf and tossed her jeans and tunic into a pile on the floor. But Peeta wouldn’t have minded. He loved her for who she was. And she was not the kind of girl who wore a spandex dress.

Katniss bellowed for her baby sister, whose eyes nearly popped out of her head when she got an eyeful of Katniss’s underwear a few seconds later.

“Whoa.”

Katniss shook her head. “Not a word to either of them about this, understand?” Prim grinned and nodded. Katniss sighed and handed Prim the dress Jo picked out. “I can’t wear that. I’ll feel naked in public all night. There’s another dress, in the back of my closet. I bought to wear tonight, but I changed my mind this afternoon. It was so expensive. I was just going to return it.”

Katniss was readjusting the stockings for the third time and swearing under her breath when Prim reappeared, dress in hand. She let herself into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. “Katniss, this is gorgeous,” she said as she unzipped the off-the-shoulder sheath dress, made of a soft, black crepe. “Why would you return it?”

“It’s wasteful. I’d rather buy you a new textbook,” Katniss muttered from the confines of the dress that she was squirming into.

“Katniss.” Prim’s voice was pinched. Katniss met her sister’s gaze in the mirror and watched Prim’s annoyed expression soften as she reached out to zip up the dress. It suited Katniss’s slight figure perfectly and fell softly over her hips with a slight flare that accentuated her tiny waist. “We’re not living on food stamps anymore.  I don’t need you to buy me textbooks. I’ve got a full scholarship and a part time job.  Plus you have a good job.” Her little sister’s hands rested on her bare shoulders. “It’s okay for you to do nice things for yourself sometimes.” Prim fingered the fine gold chain around Katniss’s neck. A black pearl nestled at her throat from where it was suspended on the necklace. “This is pretty.”

Katniss reached up to roll it between her fingers, as she often did when she was lost in thought. “Peeta gave it to me.”

“He’s really special, Katniss,” Prim said with a soft smile. Katniss bit her lip and nodded, and then her sister grinned. “I’m going to open the door and set them loose on you, so prepare yourself.

Katniss scowled and took a deep breath. “Unleash the hounds.”

While Katniss didn’t usually enjoy the fuss that went along with a fancy occasion, she had to admit that Prim’s enthusiasm for the whole thing made it bearable. She offered no protest while her little sister used a round brush to skillfully coax her raven tresses into loose, glossy curls that fell about her shoulders. She made the appropriate noises of approval when she opened her silver eyes to find that Jo’s skill with a make-up brush had made them darker and more mysterious and her lips were painted a slick, wet red.

But Katniss drew the line when Madge approached her with the shoes. Four-inch high, black patented leather stilts with a thin strap that wrapped around her ankle and clasped with a delicate gold buckle. “No.”

“C’mon Katniss,” Madge wheedled. “They’ll complete the look.”

“No,” she repeated waving her hands in front of her. “Just… no. I can’t walk in those. I’ll break my neck. They’re completely impractical.”

Prim rolled her eyes and knelt at her sister’s feet, deftly fastening the right shoe. “Katniss,” she tutted. “A woman doesn’t wear shoes like these because they’re practical.”

“They’ll do amazing things for your legs and your butt,” added Madge helpfully.

“I don’t care,” Katniss insisted. “There’s nothing wrong with the ballet flats I planned to wear.”

“You’ll be glad you’ve got them on later,” Prim insisted as she slipped the left shoe on Katniss’s foot.

Katniss gave her sister a puzzled look. “Exactly why will I be happy about aching feet?”

Jo gave an exasperated huff. “Prim, you’re being too delicate. We’re dealing with Brainless, here.” She glared at Katniss. “They don’t need to be practical because they’re not made for walking. You’ll be hanging them over Peeta’s shoulder for longer than you’ll be on your feet.”

Oh, thought Katniss, and her resulting blush was enough to make the other women laugh like hyenas and send her teetering out of the room on the cursed shoes.

She’d mastered the heels by the time she opened the door for her boyfriend, who was dressed in a crisp navy suit, half an hour later. The expression on his face made Katniss wonder if he’d swallowed his tongue, but then she watched it slip out over his lips and a light came into his eyes that she usually only saw when they were alone.

Peeta managed a soft, “Hi,” and tugged at the silk tie he’d knotted over his crisp, French blue button down. He was looking at her the way the customers in his bakery admired his cinnamon rolls. She clearly owed the girls a big thank you. But the ‘we-told-you-so’s could wait.  She did a little turn in and the skirt rustled about her thighs. “Like it?”

Peeta reached for her hand to urge her closer and then slipped an arm about her waist. It was odd to be so tall that she could look him in the eye. “You look radiant,” he said with a smile. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks,” she replied, a little mesmerized by the way the blue of his shirt made Peeta’s cerulean eyes glow. The heat in them made her want to drag him down to her bedroom so that she could mess up his carefully coiffed hair and show him his surprise. Instead, Katniss wrapped herself in the shawl that Madge had loaned her and headed for the door.

“Have fun kids,” sniggered Jo as the door began to close, and Madge and Prim erupted into gales of laughter.

“Don’t wait up,” Katniss replied, and the women roared louder.

Alone at last in the hall of her apartment building, Peeta gave Katniss a perplexed frown. “What was that about?” She told him it was better that he didn’t know, and he seemed to accept the wisdom of her advice and offered his arm. “Ready?” She slipped her fingers through the crook in his elbow and accompanied him down to his car. Traffic was light and they slipped through the city without difficulty until the time came to park the car. Peeta circled the block three times, but could not find a spot.

“It’s fine, Katniss, I’ll just take the valet parking,” he claimed.

“No,” she insisted. “You’re not paying a ridiculous price to park the car, Peeta. Just park another block down.”

Peeta looked dubiously at her feet. “Are you sure?”

“Park the car, Peeta,” she said firmly. They finally found a spot three blocks away. Katniss walked briskly at first, but her steps grew ever slower as time went by, her toes unused to being crammed in the pointy shoes, and the burning at her right heel signalled the formation of a massive blister. They arrived just in time for their reservation and the maître d’ led them smartly to their table. When he slid Katniss’s chair into place, she sighed in relief.

Peeta frowned. “You’re in pain.”

Katniss crossed her legs to take the pressure off her right heel, but that made the pain on her left toes too much to bear. She settled for crossing her ankles and turning them to the side. “I’ll be fine.” She tried to smile brightly, but grimaced instead. Unconvinced, Peeta continued to gaze at her in concern.

“We can go home,” he offered.

Katniss reached for her menu, refusing to allow a little discomfort to ruin the evening. “What’s good here?” she ruminated aloud and tried not to wince at the prices or her aching feet.

“Everything,” replied the waiter, who’d appeared out of nowhere. Katniss suspected his footwear was much more practical than the torture devices she’d been persuaded to wear. “But if I could make a recommendation, I would suggest the lamb. It’s so tender that it will melt in your mouth and is cooked in a red wine reduction and served on a bed of basmati rice with seasonal vegetables.”

“That sounds good,” she replied and handed over the menu, unwilling to think about it any longer. Peeta said he’d have the same, and after spending a great deal of energy consulting the server on exactly the right wine to accompany their meal, he sent the man off happy. Katniss sipped her water to hide her smile. Only Peeta could make the wait staff feel like they were the ones being served. When Katniss returned the glass to the table, he took her hand, and turning it over in his own, began to massage slow circles into her palm.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Of course,” she lied, and tried to change the subject. “Tell me about your day.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Sweetheart,” Peeta replied, but began to entertain her with a tale of his customer Ms. Trinket and her quest for a butterfly cake, complete with sugar flowers and fondant butterflies that he would have to paint by hand. According to Effie Trinket, no price was too high or sacrifice too great for the Panem Women’s League’s summer fund-raising tea. Katniss forgot her pinched toes and laughed until she cried at Peeta’s description of the woman’s ridiculous hat that inspired the cake.

The waiter arrived with the wine. Peeta sniffed the cork approvingly and they each were poured a generous glass. The food arrived shortly thereafter and Katniss smiled indulgently while Peeta tried to discern what was in the dish so that he could recreate it. And when the pastry chef found out that Peeta was the Mellark of Panem’s famous Mellark’s bakery, he sent out two slices of his finest cheesecake for them to sample.

It wasn’t until they rose to go home that Katniss could no longer deny the condition of her feet and she was forced to cling to Peeta as she hobbled out of the dining room.

Once they reached the restaurant vestibule, Peeta lowered her into a soft chair and knelt to remove the shoes. He gasped when he saw the size of the blister and the way the skin above her toes had been rubbed raw. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked.

“I just wanted the evening to be special. It was important to you,” she answered.

He scoffed as he massaged her throbbing arches. “Katniss, it’s your birthday. I just wanted to do something for you that you’d never do for yourself. I wanted to spoil you and show you how special you are to me.”

“Next year, just cook me that lamb dish at home,” she grumbled.

He grinned. “Done. Now, we need to get you home.”

She sighed and laid her head against the back of the chair. “I can’t walk back. Just call me a cab, Peeta. I need to go home and murder my roommates. And disown my sister.”

“No way, Everdeen, you promised you were staying with me tonight,” he said, as he got to his feet. “I’m making pancakes in the morning.” Before Katniss knew what was happening, the shoes were tossed in her lap and she was scooped up into his arms. The maître d’ smiled and held the door as Peeta carried her out to the sidewalk.

“Peeta, you can’t carry me three blocks,” she protested.

“I could carry you for miles,” he said, not even out of breath. You weigh about as much as one of the sacks of flour at the bakery. And anyway,” he added as he tightened his grip. “I never get to play your knight in shining armour. Let me take care of you for once.”

It was kind of romantic, Katniss was forced to admit, if only to herself. She collected Madge’s shoes by their straps and then snuggled into Peeta’s shoulder, her arms wrapped around his neck. “I’ll allow it,” she answered. She felt, rather than saw his smile. Instead Katniss was looking at the shoes, still dangling from her fingertips over his shoulder.

They looked pretty good there after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks and lots of love to the ever-awesome @xerxia31 for her rapid fire beta work and to @mega-aulover for her contributions to the plot and for always being everlarkingly lovely. :)


End file.
